


Doomed

by My_Evak_Heart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Love, Magic, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Evak_Heart/pseuds/My_Evak_Heart
Summary: When Rowena plans a vendetta against her daughter, the Winchesters gets involved - some more than others
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)





	Doomed

**New Orleans, Louisiana**

Upon arriving at the crime scene, the Winchesters knocked on the victim's door and waited.

The rundown apartment complex gave off a perfect spooky vibe with its sketchily-stained concrete floors - blood, perhaps - and the stinging smell of death coming from the staircase. Maybe the article was just about some junkie having hallucinations? 

Regardless, they _had_ to check it out. 

According to the article Sam had read online, a young woman in New Orleans, Louisiana had been the victim of a gruesome home invasion in the middle of the night. She came home from a night out with her group of friends to two strangers standing in her living room: a man in his forties and one in his late twenties. The younger shot himself in the head first, followed by the elder. The neighboring apartments confirmed having heard two gunshots, but there was only _one_ body when the police arrived on the scene. During the interrogation, the woman's description of the second man corresponded to the house's past owner...who had been cremated three years ago after commiting suicide the same way. 

The last line got Sam and Dean to pack their bags and climb into the Impala, ready for a good old classic ghost case. 

Dean knocked again, in case it wasn't loud enough the first time, getting impatient. Sam gave him a look, straightening up when he heard the door handle wiggling. 

A young woman with long ginger hair opened the door, pulling her eyebrows at the two suited men standing on her doorstep. ''May I help you?'' 

Sam was taken aback by her glamorous appearance - stockings, black dress and polished makeup. She looked _nothing_ like the building they were standing in. It could also be an act, a sort of costume. After all, he didn't know what she did for a living. All he knew was that she looked _very_ out of place in this ratnest.

''Cordelia Chase?'' 

''Myself.'' 

''Agent Plant and Agent Page, FBI,'' Dean introduced, holding up his faux badge licence. ''We're here for the home invasion/double suicide.''

The redhead glanced at their badges, confirming their FBI licences, but was nonetheless confused to see the agents on her doorstep. ''The case is closed. I already made my deposition and the police didn't believe me for the second man. They said there would be no further investigation.'' She scoffed, shaking her head. ''After all, there was only _one_ body...'' she added in a lower voice.

She made a point, Sam noted. 

If their suspicion was correct, the second man was the spirit of the past owner who died committing suicide in this very appartement. But, they couldn't exactly tell Cordelia the truth. 

The brunet shared a look with Dean, who whipped out an excuse. 

''Local police closed the case. Not the FBI,'' Dean corrected smugly. ''We've been assigned to take over.''

''We don't make the rules, Miss Chase,'' Sam explained, supporting his brother's lie. ''May we come in? We'd like to ask you some questions.''

She nodded, offering them a small smile and opening her door wider. ''Sure.''

The brothers stepped inside and Dean did a double-take, glancing again at the redhead, silent-whistling at Sam as she walked in front of them, her dress hugging her body in all the right places. Glaring at him, Sam smacked Dean's stomach, bringing him back to business. 

''Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee? Tea? I should have some in a cupboard...'' Cordelia kindly offered, passing by the small kitchen area.

Sam was subtly checking out the place in detail, looking for ectoplasm or other signs of the supernatural in this apartment, doing his part of the job as they followed the redhead to the living area for the interrogation. Jobs were much easier when men were the victims. At least he didn't have to remind Dean to focus on the job instead of the victim's physique.

''A coffee would be appreciated,'' Sam responded. 

Cordelia nodded and headed behind the kitchen counter, turning on the kettle to boil water for Sam's coffee. 

While she was occupied elsewhere, Sam and Dean took a look around the cramped apartment. Just like the rest of the building, the apartment was barely holding up. There was a hole in one of the walls, as if someone had punched it, and the curtains were replaced by old sheets pinned up. 

Walking into the living room, Dean noticed the blood stain on the wooden floor, barely faded despite the bleach that must've been used to scrub it off. Blood was a bitch to get off, he knew that. 

''How long have you been living here, Miss Chase?'' Sam swiped his finger on the bookshelf near the hallway, frowning at the heavy amount of dirt that seemed to be on all of the furniture, as if the place hadn't been occupied for a long time. 

''A couple weeks. I'll be frank with you, this apartment wouldn't have been my first choice, but I didn't have much of a choice. There was a flood in my old building,'' she explained, pouring the water in the mug, watching as the coffee grains dissolved in the hot water and turned it dark. ‘’Take a seat.’’ 

The two brothers shared a look before sitting on the not-so-fresh looking floral couch, a stench of old fabric filling their nostrils as they sank into it. 

Sam thanked Cordelia as she set the mug on the small table before sitting down on the armchair adjacent to the couch, resting her manicured hands over her lap. 

Once again, her well-mannered behavior struck Sam a certain way. Something felt off, but he couldn't pinpoint what. 

''So, Miss Chase,'' Dean started, clearing his throat, causing his little brother to snap out of his trance. ''We've read your deposition and you said you walked in to the first man shooting himself and falling to the floor. You saw the second man pick up the gun and bring it to his temple, but closed your eyes the second you saw him press the trigger.’’ Cordelia nodded and Dean pursued. ‘’I don't mean to trigger you, but did you _see_ the other man shooting himself? Did you see him fall to the ground?''

The young woman shifted, blue eyes cast down, feeling uneasy and slightly nauseous at the memories. ''No. I closed my eyes and ran out the second I heard the gunshot. I...I didn't want to witness a bullet going through someone's head.''

''Understandable,'' Sam agreed with a tight lipped smile. ''It could be possible that the second man, the elder one, missed his shot and fled. Do you have a balcony or a window that could be big enough to escape through?'' he questioned, glancing around. 

Cordelia shook her head. ''No balcony. One of my windows is broken and sealed with wood, and I doubt someone can pass through the second.'' She stifled a short laugh. ''And, even if he did - no offence to my elders -, but I'm on the fifth floor, sir. Do you really think a man in his _fifties_ could live through that fall and run away?''

Admittedly, she wasn't wrong. 

''It was a theory, Miss Chase,'' Sam explained. ''We, just like you, are trying to figure out what happened. We have to think of all the possibilities.'' 

.

After leaving Cordelia's apartment, the Winchesters decided to separate. 

Dean went back to the motel to research information about the victims, hopefully finding a connection between the younger victim and the ghost - even a name would be good - while Sam headed to the first floor to have a talk with the building's owner. An old man in his mid-sixties named Clifford Harrison - very lucid for his age. His white hair was pushed back and his pants were held by suspenders in a classic old man style.

The surprise on his face when he saw an FBI agent at his door was clear as glass. The man knitted his eyebrows, totally clueless about the agent’s motive, but didn't argue and let him in. After all, he was an agent of the law.

''I'd like to ask you questions about Lucian Stine, one of your past tenants,'' started Sam, skipping on the gore-y incident's details, figuring that Clifford didn't need a reminder of what happened in Miss Chase's appartement. As the building's owner, he must've been bombarded with journalists all week, pestering him with their filterless questions.

Instead, Mr. Harrison’s confusion deepened. ''Lucian Stine? I haven't heard that name in a moment…’’

Sam offered him a brief smile, mistaking the man’s confusion for nostalgia. ''Could you tell me about Mr. Stine?’’

When doing his research, just like the other suicide victim, Sam hadn’t been able to find a lot of information about this Lucian Stine. He seemed to be a quiet and lonesome person without any antecedents with the law. 

Pursing his lips, the old man searched his memory for the rightful information. ''I don't remember ever seeing someone visiting him. I don’t think he had children either. Pardon me, but may I know why you are asking me about Lucian? Are you looking for him? If so, I’m afraid I cannot help you. I don’t keep in contact with my past tenants.''

Sam frowned at the man’s words. Does he not remember that Lucian died? Maybe he was wrong about his lucidity.

''I’m here on the behalf of the recent suicide that happened in the same appartement a week ago.’’ 

''I'm sorry, Agent, but there was no recent suicide in this building. It must be a mistake.'' 

Had he been _not_ notified of the incident? As the building’s owner, the cops are obligated to inform him of all incidents that happen on his property. It's a common procedure.

‘’Mr. Stine occupied the apartment eleven, right?'' Sam asked, making sure Mr. Harrison wasn’t mixing him with another past tenant.

Clifford nodded. ''Yes. He did occupy this apartment, but the place hasn't been occupied since he left last December. This building is quite outdated and away from centerville. It’s difficult to find new tenants.’’

‘’Excuse me? _Last December_?’’ the tall Winchester repeated. 

.

On his side, Dean hadn’t been able to find the younger man’s name - nor anything about the double suicide. There was only _one_ article about the double suicide online - very brief and to the point. _Nothing_ in the local newspaper or the obituaries rubrik. It was odd. 

Just as Sam exited Clifford’s apartment, Dean had returned, empty handed. The brothers shared their new information - or, lack of - and decided to go back to Cordelia’s. 

This time, they weren’t as nice. 

Dean’s fist hit the door firmly, impatiently. 

As if she knew they would come back, Cordelia opened the door almost immediately. She sighed, defeated. ‘’I can explain.’’

.

‘’I declared a false home invasion and used my magic to simulate gunshot noises, knowing the tragic incident would catch Sam's attention. Turned out I was right. You two showed up.’’ Cordelia flashed them a small smile of victory. ''It was a set up, a _trap_. No double - or single - suicide happened in this apartment, I'm afraid.''

Magic? She’s a _witch_?

Instinctively, Dean reached for his gun, hidden inside his jacket, ready to fire at the redhead. There was no witch bullet in it, but it would wound her and slow her down if needed.

She held her hands in surrender, shaking her head. ''Worry not, I'm not here to fight you. Far from. I'm actually looking for help. From you both.''

Sam glanced at Dean, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the latter was just as lost. ''Help?'' Sam repeated, demanding explanations.

The redhead nodded. ''I'm looking for my mother.'' 

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. ''I think you're mistaking us for Parent Finders, sweetheart. I'm sure your local adoption center will be better help than us.''

After having been exposed to the media and putting their lives in jeopardy, the Winchesters had prefered to keep their identity on the down low. Only hunters, demons and other creatures of the night knew about them which meant, if the redhead had reached out to Sam and Dean, it wasn't by scrolling on a random list of names. She _knew_ who they were. 

Cert, she was a witch, but most witches weren’t fans of the brothers; they avoid them at all cost.

''I'm afraid they won't be of any help. My mother isn't exactly on their registers.''

Confusion deepened on Sam's forehead. ''What do you mean? Was the adoption illegal?''

Cordelia ignored the question. ''You _know_ my mother. If I'm not mistaken, you've made deals with her in the past. Rowena Macleod. Rings a bell?'' 

While the name was very familiar, both boys were astounded at the bomb Cordelia had dropped. They've known Rowena for a little over two years and she never mentioned having a daughter. As far as the Winchesters knew, Rowena had one son - Fergus, now known as Crowley.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. ‘’I get that you want to find Rowena, but where does this concern us? If you’re looking for her number, we don’t have it.’’ 

‘’What I’m about to tell you concerns _everyone_ . You, me, Crowley... _Lucifer_.’’

Sam’s back straightened at the mention of the archangel, shoulder tensing. He gulped. Years have passed since Lucifer had tormented him mentally, but a part of him is always haunted by those past torments. Even in the Cage, as Lucifer’s vessel. Those moments were unforgettable, forever carved into Sam’s mind.

‘’Lucifer?’’ Dean repeated. ‘’He’s in the Cage.’’

‘’Is he really?’’

‘’He can’t escape from the inside. I’ve been trapped in there before,’’ Sam confirmed.

Dean glanced at his brother, seeing only one possibility. ‘’Unless someone lets him out…’’ 

‘’What makes you believe Lucifer is out of the Cage? There are very few ways to open the Cage and they are all very complex.’’

‘’For starter, he has to be present on his wedding day.’’ 

‘’W-wedding?’’ Sam repeated, incredulously.

The redhead hummed. ‘’You boys are in for a long story.’’ She motioned to the living area. ‘’Shall we sit?’’

.

‘'A week ago, my Coven has exiled me for being supposedly promised to Lucifer which is considered the _ultimate betrayal_ to my Coven. I tried telling the High Priestess that this alliance wasn't my doing, that I'd _never_ agree to side with the devil, but she wouldn't hear a thing…’’

In the world of witches, when a High Priestess takes a decision, it’s _final_. No one dares standing up to her or going against her decision. You owe respect and obedience to your High Priestess. Unless you want to deposit a complaint to the Grand Coven...but it might take time for them to return to you. And, most of the time, it’s more trouble than necessary. 

''According to the whispers, I've agreed to rule Hell at his side and be _his_ queen.'' The redhead laughed sarcastically. ''I must've gone mad because I would never ever agree to his misogynist rulings and beliefs. I'm all in to be titled as queen, but _never_ as second ruler. I'm a woman of power, the daughter of an extremely powerful witch, and I will not let any man rule me. Especially not to Lucifer.''

Her silver tongue and fierce attitude confirmed the two brothers that she was without a doubt her mother's daughter. 

Sam cocked an eyebrow. ''How does this has to do with Rowena?''

''You still haven't caught on?’’ Cordelia shook her head in discouragement. ‘’You Winchesters are so slow...''

''Wait. You think _Rowena_ did this? That she sold you to Lucifer?'' 

‘'Undoubtedly. Revenge is her second name. She must've made this arrangement to get back at me. My mother has no sense of loyalty. She could throw her children in a pit of hellfire without hesitation or remorse.''

Sam agreed, Rowena wasn't a good mother. Although she claimed to love and care for Crowley, she played with his emotions and manipulated him to gain control over him so she could use his position as the King of Hell to her advantage and to further her own goals.

''Rowena can be...selfish and vengeful, but selling her daughter to the one who killed her two times sounds extreme,’’ Sam rationalized, incapable to believe that Rowena was _that_ evil. 

Cordelia smiled smugly, about to spill some tea. ''I bet she told you about being excommunicated by the Grand Coven as a result of her violent and forceful use of magic? Well, let's say it wasn't the only reason. My father was a non-witch. It's miraculous that I was born with the gift of magic. Given so, Rowena didn't think my father's identity would get to the Grand Coven's ears, but it did. Since then, she blamed me for her excommunication.''

''Why would she hold a grudge against you for something _she_ is responsible of?''

''After all, she is the one who decided to-''

Sam gave a warning glare to her older brother. ''Dean.'' 

The redhead shrugged. ''Jealousy, perhaps? I've recently been growing in powers inside my Coven, currently in line to be the next High Priestess. I ignore how she got the tip, but this is a vendetta. She sold me to Lucifer so I couldn't thrive among my Coven, among the witchcraft world.''

‘’I agree that Rowena’s thirst for revenge is strong, but I doubt she’d go to this extent do doom you without getting something in exchange.’’

‘’Why don’t you _ask_ her, Samuel? Right, we don’t know where she is.’’ 

Dean stifled a laugh, smug smile on his lips. 

**.**

**Lebanon, Kansas**

Eight hours later, they all made it to the bunker. The heavy door closed behind them, echoing loudly and locking itself shut, startling Cordelia. The brothers walked further in, Dean leading the way downstairs, duffel bag in his left hand. 

Cordelia glanced around as they stepped down, admiring the bunker’s industrial look. Everything was made of brick, wood or cement; all durable materials. There was also a rustic vibe and some modern touches, giving the place the slight warmth it needed. It wasn’t what the redhead used to live in, but it was better than the _dump_ she spent the past few days in. 

At least, here, nothing was falling apart. 

‘’So, this place is warded against any evil ever created?’’ the redhead repeated, walking around the war room, exploring a bit even though there wasn’t much in here. Just a large oval table with a map as table-top and chairs around it. 

Sam ran a hand over his face, wiping the tiredness away, and put his bag on the table, thankful to be home after a long drive. They hadn’t stopped on the way home other than to get food so he was pretty tired - and sore from being cramped for over twelve hours in Dean’s car. The sleep quality of the passenger seat didn’t compare to his bed. 

‘’Yes. But-’’

Cordelia raised an eyebrow at him, not liking his answer already. ‘’There’s a ‘but’?’’ 

Sam gave her an uncomfortable smile, dreading the coming explanation. Why was he the one announcing bad news to a witch? Rowena’s daughter, of them all. If she was anything like her mother, blowing up a building because someone got on her wrong side wouldn’t be a problem. 

‘’Biblically, Lucifer is an angel- an _archangel_. Despite their…overly strict rules and being major dicks all the time, angels aren’t considered evil.’’

‘’Lucifer is the devil incarnate, how can he not be considered evil?’’ 

‘’Well, we don’t make the rules.’’

‘’Why did you bring me here then if this place won’t keep me safe from Lucifer?’’ 

‘’Surely, Lucifer isn't working by himself. He must’ve got demons to do his dirty work, including searching for you. Unlike angels, demons _can’t_ come in.’’

‘’So I’m on _lockdown_?’’ she clarified.

‘’Until we find Rowena and get a clear of the story, yes,’’ Dean answered, removing his suit jacket, leaving him in his white dress shirt and loosened tie, annoyed by how restrictive and hot he was getting in his faux-FBI attire. Don’t get him wrong, he liked this job, saving people and hunting things, but those suits were damn uncomfortable.

''Talking about Rowena, have you tried locating her?'' 

Cordelia scoffed. ''No offence, Samuel, but don't you think I tried locating her before coming to you?'' She cocked an eyebrow at the tall one. ''The incantation didn't work.''

Dean held a laugh, amused by the sass Cordelia used whenever she was speaking to his brother. She wasn’t being mean to him, just quick witted and a little feisty. Dean _liked_ it. 

''Maybe she blocked her location to prevent her from being found? Rowena isn't exactly loved by her coven sisters. Or, anyone,’’ he suggested. 

Cordelia scoffed a laugh. ''So I've heard! She must be hiding somewhere, away from the inevitable afterfall of her act. Especially after putting her sweet revenge plan in action.'' 

Grabbing his jacket off the chair’s back, Dean headed down the hallway. ‘’I’m gonna go change out of this and call Crowley. Maybe he can help us.’’

.

Before Dean returned, Crowley showed up at the bunker, dressed in his usual all-black attire. 

‘’Long time no see, sister,’’ he greeted, standing in the middle of the war room, eyes on the familiar redhead by Sam. She looked fiercer than he remembered, a perfect, younger portrait of their mother.

Cordelia stood, all high and mighty, glancing at her brother. ‘’Fergus.’’

The way she said his name had the same effect when Rowena did. 

The demon inhaled a breath, cringing. ‘’It’s _Crowley_.’’

‘’Fergus,’’ she repeated, amusement in her venom tongue.

‘’It’s Crowl-’’

''There's no need to repeat yourself. I ignored you just fine the first time,'' Cordelia said, interrupting her brother in his correction. ‘’I thought demons couldn’t teleport inside the bunker.’’ She turned to Sam. ‘’Is this another one of your lies, Samuel?’’

He flashed her a curt smile. ‘’There’s exceptions.’’ 

‘’We’ve summoned him here,’’ Dean explained, walking into the war room from the library, his suit having been replaced by a more casual attire: a flannel and jeans. 

Cordelia’s eyes followed the voice, giving Dean a subtle head to toe look before returning her attention to the Sam and Crowley.

‘’Squirrel! Nice of you to join us,’’ Crowley pointed, acknowledging the older Winchester.

‘’How’s the family reunion going?’’ 

‘’As you can see, no one’s killed anyone.’’

‘’Who said I haven’t slipped an hex bag in your pocket?’’ 

Slightly paranoid, the King of Hell patted his pockets, checking if there was anything in them. While hex bags couldn't kill him, some could cause serious injuries. 

He rolled his eyes, recoiling his hands when catching the amused smile on her lips. ‘’Ha! Very funny.’’

Sam cleared his throat. ‘’Back to business.’’

Crowley’s posture straightened, haughty. ‘’So, you need my help.’’ 

‘’Yes. We need to find someone,’’ Dean explained.

‘’I’m not a tracker device-’’

‘’It’s Rowena,’’ Cordelia interrupted.

The mention of his mother caught Crowley’s attention. ‘’Our mother?’’ he repeated. ‘’Why do you want to find her? If it’s to try and mingle with her, I suggest you cross that idea. Trust me, we’re all better off _without_ her.’’ 

‘’Oh, I know. Searching for her doesn't enchant me. I’d rather stay far away from her, all she do is poison people’s lives, but I need to speak to her. I need to ask her why she made me her personal vendetta.’’ 

Crowley frowned and they filled him in on the details of Rowena’s possible latest doings, skipping no details. Although it was mostly concerning Cordelia, Crowley was concerned too - by default - since is throne and position as king of Hell were on the table.

‘’That evil bitch…’’ Crowley paused, feeling like some part was missing. ‘’But, why? She might’ve done this for revenge, but revenge doesn’t suffice her, she needs to get something in return.’’

‘’It’s the reason we need to find her. There’s some holes that we assumes she’ll have answers for,’’ Sam explained.

‘’I’ll have my demons searching for her. I’ll fill you in on any leads I have.’’ 

.

A clatter of glass and wood echoed as Dean crossed the bunker's hallway to get to his room, catching his attention. The bunker didn't have many residents beside him and Sam and Dean knew from years of cohabitation that Sam rarely gets up during the night.

Alert, Dean made his way to the library, debating whether or not making a run back to the guns he had just finished cleaning minutes ago. There was a high possibility that Cas was back, but according to his last call, he was still searching for fellow angels that survived the fall. Therefore, it couldn't be him.

That left only one option: an intruder.

Longing the wall quietly, Dean was ready to call out to Sam for backup when a woman's thick accent echoed, the choice of curse words could only belong to one Scottish redhead - or her daughter.

'' _Bollocks_!''

Stepping away from the wall, Dean regained composure, stepping in the library, catching sight of Cordelia in her black dress, heavy glass of whiskey in her left hand and its bottle tilted on the side, the auburn liquid spilled on the wooden table.

''Found my secret stash, I see,'' Dean commented, making his presence known. ''This whiskey cost me a hefty penny,'' he added, nodding at the good old bottle of whiskey and its remaining.

The redhead snapped her head up, slightly taken by surprise. ''You spying on me, Winchester?'' 

Dean shook his head and she downed her drink in one swig, impressing the blond.

''I'd apologize for finishing your whiskey, but I'm not even sorry.'' A slurred laugh escaped her lips and she set the empty glass down, almost missing the table and shattering.

''Drinking your problems away won't solve anything. Trust me, I know. It numbs them for a few hours before they're back at you, more present than ever.''

''I'm not an idiot, Dean.'' Cordelia stepped in his direction, high heels clicking on the cement. ''Does it stop _you_ from drinking? I doubt so considering the amount of bottles you have here.''

Dean smiled dryly. ''And I thought we didn't have anything in common, turn out we pick the same poison.''

''I've been excommunicated from my beloved coven and promised to Lucifer, do I need another reason to drink?''

 _Fair point_. 

The Winchesters had the _lovely_ occasion to meet Lucifer in the past and, needless to say, it was never pleasing nor accompanied by good news. Quite the contrary. He had caused the death of their mother, beaten Dean to almost death, mentally tortured Sam as a hallucination, and many more. 

''And you.'' She nodded at Dean, interrupting his thoughts. ''What are you trying to run away from?'' 

The words left his lips before he realized it, his own honesty so blunt it surprised him. ''Myself.'' 


End file.
